


flesh into blossom

by oleander (Branches_of_Light)



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Fluff and Smut, PWP: Porn with Poetry, Past Rape/Non-con, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, and decadently sappy, because lets be real its Pearl here, everything is languid and happy, only mentioned once in passing and does not take place in the story at all though!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 22:12:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13327416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Branches_of_Light/pseuds/oleander
Summary: The hum she starts is an old tune, meant for the Diamonds and their ilk before she decidesno, that isn’t quite right. A war song doesn’t suit her fancy either, and it takes one more try before she is satisfied with the notes. Something new, jubilant and untainted by those who would abhor Pearl’s freedom and their affections. She decides it is a song for the brilliant setting of the sun with all its magentas and violets and tangerines. The call of a nightingale and the whisper of a bubbling stream, the joy of a human child and the victorious cry of a soldier.





	flesh into blossom

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  _as moon fires set in my throat / i love you flesh into blossom / i made you / and take you made / into me._   
> 

Rose’s quarters overflow with hibiscus and lilac, gentle bursts of sweet peas and heavy heads of drooping honeycups. Marigolds and poppies, a black-eyed susan; there is no rhyme or reason to any of these sets. A floral scent, pleasing in its pervasiveness, lingers in the air and coats one’s tongue. These plants are strange and new, nothing like the barren wastes of Homeworld. Those have all been long-drained by the birth of new gems. Indeed, this Homeworld is not even the first; it is the latest in a string of husks bearing the same name. 

Pearl commits the foreign names of these flowers to memory, fingering waxy petals. A shame, certainly, when the life on any world eventually became snuffed out by the conquest of the Diamonds, but she never mourned their loss like Rose had. In hindsight Pearl should have noticed her traitorous temperament at the very onset; Rose wept fiercely as first Cassiopeia IX crumbled into ruin, and then Geldran. Perhaps she had, hiding behind those curtains and watching, nervously, the oddity of her mistress's sorrow. 

She should have reported her then but oh, she couldn’t. Not when Rose had been the kindest gem she’d ever met, insisted Pearl not kneel except in public where she ought. There were no reprimands and orders, only the welcoming affection afforded to a house-guest. Selfishly, Pearl had kept all knowledge of Rose’s oddities to herself, hoarding them and never uttering a word to any of her superiors. She’d threatened the very security of Homeworld and her Diamond for her comfort, but to give up the best home she’d ever known seemed foolish. Respect for a  _ pearl  _ was a dizzying concept she’d quickly become drunken on, even if only one gem ever afforded it to her. 

It was easy to adore Rose after that. 

Turning away from the flowers she gazes to the rest of the room, leveling an amused glance to their belongings. Rose told her time and time again that she could seek her own quarters should she wish, but no part of her desires so. Being apart still feels dangerously-new, even with the heady rush of knowledge of how much they dare with the rebellion. She has broken enough habits that she wishes to allow herself one comfort still, and so she chooses Rose. Sweet, tender Rose who kisses her as if she’s hung all the moons in the sky. Yes, she would she choose her in a thousand lifetimes. 

Daintily she steps round the vines that would otherwise entangle her and sets straight a few holo-vids, dangerously close to teetering from their perch. While Rose finishes her duties Pearl may as well tidy up, habit never lost though the task has not been asked of her for centuries. Everywhere are little baubles littered about, creating a fond sort of clutter. There, a hammered slip of bronze meant for wear ‘round the neck, gifted to Rose by a human who gazed adoringly at her and imparted the wonders of the seasons of this planet. A few locks of hair from some shaggy earth-beast with a lolling tongue and bounding nature; too overwhelming and loud for Pearl’s taste but so incredibly endearing to Rose’s that it had been a wonder she hadn’t asked to take it back to base with them. 

Pearl still does not fully grasp her love for the odd things she collects, but she supposes she benefits greatly from this propensity. A pearl who yearned to write her own stories and fiddle with machinery in secret was rarely kept for long. Over time, though, she has learned to regard her defects with less and less bitterness. Rose welcomes the turn of her mind and the clever tick of her thoughts with such earnestness that it is hard to hate any bit of herself that is adored so passionately.

Satisfied and no longer troubled by the tiny messes Pearl almost begins to look for some other way to occupy her time before Rose herself strides in, looking every bit the leader of deserters and traitors. Her wild curls have come half-undone from their pins, tumbling over broad shoulders with reckless abandon. A single amaryllis is affixed to her lapel, petals only slightly crumbled. The smile she wears is just as careless and only widens more as her gaze lands upon Pearl and stays there, transfixed. A heady laugh leaves her as she calls farewell over her shoulder to the gems who accompanied her before she closes the door, silence falling once more. 

“Pearl, my Pearl.” It does not feel ownership but better, brighter. It lights tenderness within her breast to hear it breathed in the same tone as _beloved_ and _dearest_. “I have missed you. How are you?”

She racks around for a suitable reply before wincing in revelation of her dawdling. To admit she become so entranced in history records to let the whole day slip by seems irresponsible. “Oh, well, I thought it may be helpful to review the conquests of Lussatite Facet-6B Cut-1XL.” That had been her intention until she’d gotten lost in the various logs concerning the shipmates of the lussatite. Each and every one had fascinating and conflicting tales of their ventures. “She managed to subdue enemy forces more than thrice their size.” 

“A legend in her own right. You will have to inform us all of the details then. I do know how you love to teach.” Even as the quartz turns to remove her sword and dematerialize her cape her voice is so infused with warmth that it remains evident her full attention remains on Pearl. Had she not known otherwise Pearl would have said that Rose’s talents lay in imparting the sensation that one was the most fascinating and intriguing being in existence.

“Gladly.” She notes to study so she can discuss something of value rather than the observations of a citrine who lost herself in space for three days. 

Rose sits upon the bed and lets the slope of her shoulders drop only a little, finally letting through a hint of the crushing weariness that must creep up on her. Underneath the easy confidence and gentle smiles is a tired, hunted look. So rarely does she acknowledge her own need for rest that she constantly masks it to maintain the morale of everyone else. Her earlier grin slips, no longer surrounded by the comradery of her sparring partners. Responsibility for all under her command is a heavy burden. Rose quartzes are not built to lead, only to fight and heal. They both defy their stations here, and the strain shows. The Crystal Gems depend on their leader and her renegade pearl, however. 

“Here, let me.” Pearl settles behind her gently and lifts her hands to the rolling pink waves of her hair, tangling gentle fingers in the mess. Carefully fishing out the bits of metal is a challenge, but she is used to intricate work. Tomorrow she resolves to accompany Rose to ease her burdens. Once, she had asked if Pearl would really like to stay with her. Yes had seemed to be the only appropriate answer: why would she want anything else but her, her Rose? That they would become the most wanted criminals by Homeworld was no deterrent. It changed nothing. She knew she belonged by Rose’s side even then. 

When her task is complete Pearl collects the bobs into a cabinet. She turns back and settles herself boldly into the cradle of her lap, seeking to comfort her. Years ago she never possessed the nerve to initiate contact but now she does so easily, eagerly. She is allowed to touch and welcomed to touch; Rose is hers as much as she is. A kiss she presses into the underside of her curved jaw and feels the responding delight that crosses the other’s face. “Is there any way I can help?” 

“Will you sing for me, Pearl? The day has been long.”  Large arms embrace her before she is pulled closer, treasured. The grip is loose but sure; Rose luxuriates in her proximity. Right then and there Pearl decides her warmth is much too comfortable to ever leave. Familiar comfort washes over her like a balm. In fact, she thinks that she will put up an awful amount of fuss if she is asked to part from her before morning. 

An easy enough request, and one that she grants with little fuss. Rose treasures sentiment and beauty over any grand gesture or present. Pearl tuts and clears her throat, perhaps a bit dramatically. It achieves its desired affect: a bit of Rose’s tenseness melts away as she lets a laugh bubble up. These moments are her favorite, sincere and doting. She squirrels them away in her heart, as much of a hoard as Rose’s physical one surrounding them. Perhaps she is overly-sentimental too. 

Rose is nothing if not patient and waits without complaint for her to find something to her liking. Similarly, there is nothing rushed about the calming circles she makes with her thumb on Pearl’s hip, nor in the circle between forefinger and pinky of opposing hand she forms at the tiny hook of her waist. 

The hum she starts is an old tune, meant for the Diamonds and their ilk before she decides _no, that isn’t quite right_. A war song doesn’t suit her fancy either, and it takes one more try before she is satisfied with the notes. Something new, jubilant and untainted by those who would abhor Pearl’s freedom and their affections. She decides it is a song for the brilliant setting of the earth-sun, with all its magentas and violets and tangerines. The call of a nightingale and the whisper of a bubbling stream, the joy of a human child and the victorious cry of a soldier. It is meant for Rose, but lately Pearl has found herself falling regarding these events with a grudging appreciation. 

She doesn't know if she believes in this planet, but she wants to. For Rose. 

Fireflies; fireflies she likes the best, she decides. Gentle beacons in these sweltering earth-summer nights. She’s seen younger gems chase after them in delight and envied their elation at so simple a thing, but she cannot truly fault them. Their shows are pleasurable in their mere simplicity, accompanied by the chorus of cicadas and crickets. There also resides a deceptively unassuming quality about the understated beauty of the yearning, reaching bodies of the great trees that house their insect neighbors. Rose has learned that if one is cut down it is possible to find how old they number, and it is fascinating to learn that there is life here that is more than a blink of a gem eye. So much here is transient and short-lived, but there is comfort in the perennial trees. 

Pearl sings of eternity and a thousand-lifetimes with the joyous determination (desperation, hope,) that there will be a tomorrow. Her own worries do not matter as long as she can be _convincing_. 

A contented sigh leaves Rose as Pearl brings her improvised melody to a close. She rests her forehead against the side of Pearl’s neck and inhales deeply before exhaling (and oh, that is so unnecessary and utterly human, is she _breathing?_ ), gently returning earlier kiss at the jut of a collarbone. She lays one and then another, almost worshipful. Her smile, when she lifts her face, is beauteous and wide. Flushed features light with wonderment and she regards Pearl as if she is some miracle. “That was delightful, Pearl. I loved it.” 

“And I love you.”

“Oh, you silly thing.” This kiss lands fully on her mouth instead. Now she knows for certain that Rose is beaming. She can’t possibly not notice when her full lips are pressed against her own and parted in laughter. Each sweet breath has become blessing; she tastes communion on her tongue. She has kissed many gems, but she could die happy if Rose’s was the only one she ever felt again. If this makes Pearl silly then she doesn't mind being foolish a hundred times over. “I love you, I adore you, I cherish you.” 

“Careful there, you may run out of synonyms.” Pearl doesn’t manage to temper her tone to dry. There is too much teasing playfulness and flirt. Never does it grow old to hear Rose’s low voice in this way, intimate and dripping golden with devotion. The amaryllis on her breast may be brilliant in its red, but it is hard pressed to outdo the glimmer of her eyes and the dimple in her cheek. Earth dazzles with its beauty but even on its moonlit nights it barely holds a candle to Rose Quartz. She is every star in the galaxy, every bright beacon of hope and life that glimmer dimly down from the heavens. 

“For you? Never.” 

“In that case, continue to laud me with praise.” 

Cheekily, Rose grins and rests her head beneath her chin once again. The brambles of her hair tickle and Pearl huffs good-naturedly into her crown. “I will if you serenade me again.” There is a cajoling, teasing quality that seems to promise. Pearl shivers with the downward stroke of hands, now drifting down to cup the slim weight of her thighs and squeezing gently. Deliciously, deliriously, Pearl thinks _there are other ways you could praise me,_ and flushes cerulean accordingly. 

Rose’s heavy lidded gaze is all too knowing and sinful. 

With motivation like that it is no hardship to find her song again. This time is easier; she still holds the tune. Her voice chimes out, sweet and clear and high. Rolling fields of wheat and the honeyed scent of strawberry patches are not enough to banish her ache for Homeworld, but she instead decides to celebrate this newness. There is so much here that she does not understand, not yet, but for Rose she would snatch every star from the sky and deliver them gladly to her with charred palms. Nothing she would not do for her, and she yearns to show her the depths of her devotion. 

Rose rewards her in the form of trailing her calloused grip upwards to rest firmly on her hips, pulling her back until she feels every inch of her front. The touch of Rose’s heavy breasts and the plush outward push of her stomach, cradling the sacred facets of her gem, are so intimate that Pearl falters and lets out something like a squeak. Understanding that she has been so easily rendered silent takes another moment before she’s clearing her throat. Fruitlessly she seeks to preserve even an ounce of her dignity by straightening her spine and taking up her song once more, ignoring how it pushes her hips into Rose’s. She’s only driven slightly mad by the chuckle that greets her temporary loss of composure. 

“Something the matter, Pearl?” And oh, it is _cheating_ to use her name now. “If you need to rest simply say the word,” teasing, always, “I wouldn’t wish to tire you out.”

Pearl interrupts herself to laugh, breathier than she means it to be. “I-oh, well I. There’s no need.” She wants desperately for Rose to exhaust her, actually. Her head turns minutely to watch her from the corner of an eye but Rose gently guides her with a thumb on her chin to face forward again, grinning.

“If you would continue singing.” And Pearl does so gladly.  

It is harder still to remain impartial when large hands smooth up the slender curve of her waist to trace the tender cage of her ribs. Just shy of indecent, but warm enough to inspire her to let loose a traitorous, fine tremble. Rose stills every time she reacts and waits for her voice to even, and Pearl suddenly realizes that this is a game. _One that she has been losing terribly._ Every daring venture lower and lower has her losing more of her composure; when she brushes the insides of Pearl’s thighs she cries out, skin sensitized and body a taut wire. Stars, how easily she’s plucked. 

Determined to even the playing field a bit, she grinds back against her. Escalating the situation and taking risks; she’s grown daring. Certainly she is no longer merely a pretty thing - flower or trinket to be sheltered and kept in a collection, so she gives as good as she gets. Her lover’s throaty groan is equal measure surprised and aroused, enough so that it has her squirming deliciously at the wet heat that coils in her belly. Wantonly, without her full approval, her legs part around a thick thigh beneath her. A carnal rhythm is is easy enough to find, though she falters a once or twice merely from how _divine_ it feels. 

“Oh, _Pearl_ ,” and there is nothing more wonderful than the awe Rose regards her with. Pearl turns this time to cast a glance over her shoulder and is not rebutted. She’s treated to the glorious sight of Rose’s eyes drinking her in like she can never get enough, trailing down to take in the buck of her hips. Helpfully, she firms her leg so that Pearl can ride it better. The drag of cloth is just the right kind of tease, urging Pearl to grind back against her shamelessly. It provides a friction so sweet that she cries out loudly, uncaringly. 

Rose croons into her ear, something sweet and darling and most certainly a question. Unfortunately it is entirely garbled by Pearl’s lust. Her high soprano fades off into a breathless giggle ill-concealed and she squirms, cheeks powder-blue and chagrined by her lack of focus. Asking for Rose to repeat herself seems too much like an admission of her own distractions and so she shuts her eyes, hoping she will do so of her own volition. 

The stars are merciful today as Rose asks “May I?” again, patiently, as she always does. “May I take you?” and it sends fondness and arousal through Pearl in equal measure. It's so utterly ridiculous with Pearl all but begging to be fucked, but so tender a thought that all she can do is gape and nod, breaking her stuttering hymn once and for all. 

“Yes, oh yes.” And that isn’t enough of an answer, so she turns to kiss her earnestly instead. The slick slide of her tongue is one she welcomes with a keening, fluting moan. Too easy, to fall into dance of pulling apart and meeting again in ardent passes of flesh. Pearl’s lit aflame. Greedily she pulls her closer, turns round in her lap so that they face one another. She mourns the delightful pressure beginning to build against her clit, but it is suddenly impertinent that she lavishes Rose with her appreciation and adoration. 

None before ever bothered for the opinions of a pearl, even in this. To have her thoughts sought after never fails to thrill her; she knows that if she even once uttered _stop_ that Rose would. She is aroused by the measure of power it affords her. Shattered, oh she’d be _shattered_ on the spot by the Diamonds themselves! 

It is not her first time committing treason. 

And then she thinks better of it, hisses it out in scandalized realization. “Someone-someone _might_ have heard, _Rose_ , I wasn’t being quiet.” She’d felt no need to consider her volume whilst singing and the sudden fear that she’d extended the same to her moans hits her with all the force of a quartz’s attack. Privacy even in their own quarters is hard to find with hundreds of gems milling about, the numbers of the rebellion growing larger by the day. Any passing by could hear, but its just as exciting in its daring as it is off-putting. Perhaps that is the most embarrassing part about it all; she’s half sure that she _wants_ someone to hear them. 

“My dear, you hardly ever are.”  Roguishly teasing, but to her dismay it seems that she is telling the _truth_. There is a mischievous glimmer in her eye but she has never once lied to Pearl. “But if you wish we don’t have to continue.” 

__

“Now, I didn’t say that.” 

__

Rose smiles all too serenely and tries to give her an unaffected, considering look. It’s rather thoroughly ruined by her eagerness to touch Pearl, hands wandering. “Then what would you have me do?” 

__

As if she is ever one to back down from a challenge. “Ravish me, for starters. Completely and utterly in whatever manner you see fit.” For emphasis she phases away the flimsy fabric of her dress, not that it was truly doing much anymore for her decency. The crotch was already reaching well beyond soaked in the fervor of her desire. With that layer gone she presses insistently against Rose for her to feel how she practically drips, cunt throbbing and nipples peaking. “The sooner the better.” 

__

“Impatient, are we? And what if I wanted to take my time?” In direct contradiction her hand slides to cup her, sliding a thick finger to brush against the aching bulb of her clit. Strong, steady, sure - Rose brushes deliciously against sensitive skin. Pearl cants upwards to urge her on. “See how long you could last?” She dips teasingly into her entrance before fluttering gentle fingers along where she is soft and soaked. Her touch is too light and not enough. Pearl chases the contact hungrily, barely conscious of her own needy whine. 

__

“You are cruel, but would deny me nothing.” She decides none-too generously. At least, not for long. Gambling is risky, but she hopes to reap the rewards for her daring very soon. 

__

“Let me show you just how wicked I can be, then.” And oh, the promise in that tone! Enough to make her shudder in anticipation. 

__

With all her gentleness it is sometimes hard to remember that Rose is a _quartz_. On the battlefield there is no denying her prowess, but with her mouth soft and inviting and her voice sugared it is possible to forget her nature. She shares the strength of all her sisters but only uses it when she must, so it is with surprising ease that she bodily lifts Pearl. 

__

Before she has time to protest she is deposited onto the bed on her back, gazing up at Rose’s hovering form. She is larger than life, smelling thickly of the flowers she so adores. The curl of her lashes against flushed cheeks are nothing short of darling, the round bud of her lips parted to take in another shuddering breath. Her imposing figure becomes soft in the round of her shoulders; she looms but it is nothing more than incredibly exciting. A single hand is enough to span her belly, fingers reaching up to brush against the underside of her breasts. She dwarfs her easily and Pearl _revels_ in the sense of being hemmed in. The thick muscles in her arms and the curling florets of her hair block out the rest of the room; it is only the two of them, as it should be. Rose seems to share the sentiment with the appreciative murmur she lowly presses into the shell of her ear, kisses with lingering lips.

__

She trails her attentions downwards in a tantalizing route, sucking a bruise into the crook of her shoulder. Her teeth come next, scraping just so. Pearl trembles, thin and bird-like, breath warbling out in mockery of music. Dazedly her hands move through the syrupy air, burdened by the arousal that burns in her throat and spreads to her arching back. She grips whatever purchase she can find: hair and then bicep and then the giving flesh of her ass, hard. Pearl’s fingers knead thoughtfully for a moment before she grins devilishly and raises her hand only to bring it down in a resounding slap, loving how Rose jolts and a moan is ripped out of her. 

__

Dark eyes rise to meet her own quizzically before Rose is smirking: the only warning she receives. Rose’s retaliation is in the form of sucking a tender nipple into the heat of her mouth. The whirl of her tongue is nothing short of sinful; she curls it in patterns that Pearl at first tries to follow but soon finds herself unable to comprehend. All that matters is that Rose keep doing it, keeps biting at her softness. Of their own accord her hips buck to bring them closer, eager to be filled. Fervor as humid as muggy jungle nights build between them, but it's not enough. She gives off a delectable heat that appeals in the humidity of Pearl’s want; she needs her skin on hers and she needs it _now_. More, she needs _more_ , and yet Rose still remains fully clothed. 

__

Pearl decides to voice her scathing opinion regarding that until she’s sent bucking by the sudden curl of fingers inside of her: “Oh! Oh _Rose_ , yes, just like that.” It’d all been a diversion, and a successful one at that. Maybe she should have concerned herself with studying tactics earlier, for she finds herself completely at Rose’s mercy now. Even two digits are thick enough to have Pearl throwing her head back in a delighted gasp, smiling directionlessly up at the ceiling as she arches to bring her body closer. To the heavens, to whatever silly place those humans worship, to Homeworld, she doesn’t care. As long as Rose is guiding her there, voice carnal in the rough praise she soothes over her. 

__

“Like this?” Innocently, as if she doesn’t know exactly how to unravel Pearl. As if she hasn’t spent countless nights learning her construct and all the places she likes to be touched; the seat of her back and the insides of her wrists and the - well. Rose takes advantage of one of those cruelly, smiling lips now taking care to leave imprints of her rogue all up and down the inside of her thighs. 

__

“ _Yes!_ ” She rivals the babbling of streams over stone, smoothed over time. Each movement of hers, however, is ragged with desire. She becomes the constant motion of the tide pulled in by Rose’s moon, unable to resist its lunar call. No part of her wants to; she’s completely and utterly _hers_. She yearns and craves, always, and Rose gives and gives and gives with devastating touches. Each thrust is powerful enough to send her further up the bed, pelvis deliciously sore from the casual strength in which her lover fucks her. “Oh, a bit further up. Yes, can you. Can you. Uhm, use your mouth?” Ridiculously, Pearl thinks of Earth fruit; the bite teeming with sweet juice running down Rose’s chin, staining her hands and widening her eyes in surprise. The thought of her nectar on her face is filthy enough to render her palms unsteady and clenching roughly around thick handfuls of curls. 

__

“Where, darling?” For all she seems coy and charming, she looks some heathen between Pearl’s legs. A pink tongue peaks out between ivory fangs to lick up the mess she’s made around her cunt, but carefully avoids her aching folds. By the stars, she’d do anything to make Rose be faster about it. _Sing again_ , let everyone hear. She’s beyond caring.

__

Pearl cards her hands perhaps a bit rudely and impatiently through her ringlets where they’ve taken hold. Nothing as crude as pulling or shoving, but as close as she allows herself to get. 

__

Pearl flushes and squirms under her gaze. She feels wanted, desirous. It doesn’t matter that the starving valleys of her hip speak of famine and desolation, or that the sunken craters of ribs resemble caverns. Rose loves her all the same, this goddess of plenty. She’s streams overflowing with soft flesh and exuberant, abundant life and Pearl wants to be filled with her, by her. Wants to forget where she ends and Rose begins; would like nothing more than to burrow into her side and become one. 

__

Sometimes, she understand the romanticism of perma-fusions. 

__

“Here,” and she touches herself. Long fingers brush against Rose’s own, still buried to the knuckle within. She spreads herself wide open, shivering once at the cool air such an action brings against sensitized loins, and circles the insistent swell nestled atop. “I want your kiss. Yearn for you to take me with your mouth too, crave it. I want to come with your tongue dancing against me and my taste tempting you. ” 

__

Rose’s laughs deeply. Indulgently; as buttery as the velvet sheets that lay disheveled beneath them. Her composure, so carefully kept ‘til now, seems blown open wide by the vulgar sight. Pearl congratulates herself for bowling her over and carefully stores away the information of what it does to her when she is _obscene_. “Then you shall have it.”

__

The punishing pace she’d taken earlier resumes, though this time with the added bliss of her wet mouth. Rose for her part lets Pearl be greedy about seeking her pleasure. She rides all she’s given with abandon unlike her. The pursuit of the end is enough to have her careless, half-formed words and requests springing up like babbling streams. Coherence has left her, higher-thinking much too hard when she’s coming. Her walls flutter around Rose’s fingers, painfully tight as she breathes her name like the final words of a sonnet

__

Now she is the one taking in unnecessary breaths. Her gasping settles as Rose crawls up to rest beside her, smiling prettily and widely. The amaryllis is completely ruined now, a petal falling to adorn one of Pearl’s pale breasts. She certainly does not mourn its lose - there are many other blooms in their quarters to pick from. Pearl thinks that she’d like to suggest the marigolds next.  

__

“That was a splendid finale.” Rose’s plush mouth, swollen and messy from her attentions and the sopping aftermath of her orgasm lands on her own, uncaring of the squawk Pearl treats her to. She’s laughing and gasping and pushing her away, disgusted but amused. The taste itself isn't offensive, but the mess is something she only can entirely enjoy - or ignore - in the throes of passion. 

__

Pearl squints in thought, jaw working in hazy consideration before she’s groaning in languid appreciation of Rose’s horrid humor. “I stopped singing quite a while ago.” 

__

“I’d like to argue otherwise.”

__

"Give me a moment and you won't be capable of arguing." 

__

**Author's Note:**

> I should be writing other things but it wouldn't leave me until I got it all out. So here we are instead with some rather indulgent porn. The quoted bit at the beginning is from Recreation by Audre Lorde.
> 
> I will say that my feelings regarding PearlRose is that it is slightly unhealthy. Pearl doesn't completely view herself as Rose's equal and Rose lets her get away with a lot of that uncontested. This fic also takes place during the war so she's had less time to view herself as someone deserving of anything. Pearl's working on it and I don't believe Rose is cruel to her in any capacity on purpose. As much as she fights Homeworld and for freedom of all gems there's still some lingering behaviors that show a bit in how she treats Pearl ( _my Pearl_ ) and it's just the reality between them. Slight power dynamic, whoopsie daisy. 
> 
> Also Pearl never believed in Earth like Rose did, but I think her view of it was a lot less pessimistic/able to acknowledge and appreciate its beauty before Rose became Steven. During the show Earth is just the origins of everything that have led to Rose being taken away from her so she's much less likely to want to admire all these plants and animals and such without her around. 
> 
> Anyway, I love to ramble so I'll skedaddle now! 
> 
> You guys can find me on tumblr at himesona!


End file.
